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Lillian Bilocca

3 posts in this topic

Life below the water is drawn towards the suns reflection
refusing to drown, waves are like the disparate pages of
the city's history unable to create a seam, winds carry
the skeleton of a dream towards a tree that grows eyes
instead of leaves inside the mind of Lillian Biloca, enough
eyes to see through the holes in the nets of fisherman,
gathered to form a singular vision; working class forever
drowning, bourgeoisie forever climbing. Lillian can hear
the waters in a photograph sing for three sunken trawlers,
their voices trapped, she ripped up the paradigm and raised
them from the sea bed into a photograph. Lillian sailed with
the moon and held it's anchor, the night made her captain,
she then sailed the sun through Hessle road taking the
residents into history to record the ascent on Parliament.

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Barry,  I think this is my favorite of your work.   I just kept getting sucked in further and further.   I'm unfamiliar with the subject but I certainly am interested in finding more about Lillian whom I assume to be a real person.  If not, the poem is a compelling work of fiction because your words came alive on the page.


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